Proof The Bible Is True

Before the party started I hoped to steal upstairs to the trunk where I kept our son Rod’s favorite things. I spent a lot of time with that trunk since Rod’s death in a car accident in his sophomore year in high school. That’s where I went when I missed him so much I couldn’t bear it. Like now.

 

My husband, Rodney, and I had decided to throw a graduation party for Rod’s classmates. They’d taken his death hard too. In the months after the accident the kids wrote dozens of letters telling us how much our son had meant to them, how they’d never forget him, how they were praying for us. I saved every one and packed all of them away in a box for safekeeping.

 

Throughout their junior and senior years, the kids dropped by the house just to say hi or talk about Rod. Sometimes I’d almost forget that he wasn’t right out front, shooting hoops in the driveway.

 

The soda was on ice, the chips and dip were out. Rodney was firing up the grill. “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I called to him. I hurried upstairs to the trunk, which I’d found in an antiques store about six months after Rod’s death.

 

I went through Rod’s treasured possessions one by one, savoring each memory as I packed them neatly inside. His freshman yearbook, his Latin Club scrapbook, his Star Wars action figures. Each time I went through the trunk, I repacked it just as carefully, laying the University of Alabama football quilt I’d had made for him on top before closing the lid.

 

Our first guests would arrive any minute. I opened up the trunk and frowned. The quilt was there as usual, but there was a letter on top of it, one we received after Rod’s death. It wasn’t like me to leave a stray one out. Those letters were too precious to me. I always kept them bundled together in a separate box up in my closet. And nobody went into the trunk but me.

 

Read More: A Letter from the Heavenly Angels – Guideposts